


how can anything be worth anything if it lasts forever?

by Altrove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altrove/pseuds/Altrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the tales of a specialized squadron of clone commandos officially known as Erebus Squadron, but they like to call themselves the Killjoys because it sounds cool and really they’re just a Big Bunch o’ Nerds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. participation medals of the heart

**Author's Note:**

> I was having too many feelings about my clone ocs, so I wrote this to get them out and somehow wound up giving myself more feelings. That plan didn't work out very well for me, but it did get the creative juices flowing, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays. This fic does centre around my original characters, so you can check out this [post](http://rosewilson.tumblr.com/post/141215528739/id-like-to-hear-about-your-clone-ocs-if-youre) I made if you want a bit of background info going in, although I don't think it's _really_ necessary for you to understand the story. So, like, enjoy or whatever I guess. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title for the story lifted from one of the [Softer World comics](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=891) alt text.
> 
> Edit: Just so you all know I'm open to prompts. If you wanna see a particular scene or something, drop me a comment or shoot me an ask over on tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even having a couple million brothers, it still hurts every time you lose even one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was based off a prompt from this [list](http://hayleylis.tumblr.com/post/110226794172/calming-starter-sentences).

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Kach settles in beside Binder where he’s sitting on a catwalk overlooking the hangar bay, troopers from the 41st Elite Corps running around below them and preparing the cruiser for takeoff. Their squad had joined with the 41st for this mission, and while Kach would have liked to stay with his squad, they went where they were needed. This wouldn’t be a problem, except that Kach wasn’t with Binder when whatever happened, happened, and now he doesn’t know how to help his brother.

The team medic just shrugs in response.

“Do you want me to leave?” Kach asks next, and Binder hesitates a moment before shaking his head. “Well, that’s good, because I wouldn’t have left even if you asked.” Kach continues, and he sees his brother’s mouth twitch slightly at the words. It’s not a complete smile, not nearly, but it’s something other than the glazed look Binder’s had for the past twelve hours so Kach counts it as a victory.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Binder’s head turns away from him at the words so Kach can no longer see his face, and what he says next is so quiet Kach almost misses it.

“It was, though.” Binder’s voice is rough from disuse, even as quiet as it is. “I should’ve been faster, or trained harder, or at least seen the blasted _droid_ , or—”

Kach grabs his brother’s shoulder, stopping him mid sentence. “Binder, whoa, hey. Look at me. _Binder_ , come on.” When he finally has his attention, Kach can see the tears forming in Binder’s eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself, Binder, _please_.”

“I deserve it though,” Binder says, and the tears are getting worse and are threatening to spill over now as the medic becomes more distressed with every word. “It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” Maverick drops down on Binder’s other side, setting down his helmet beside the other two on the ground. Kach sends a silent _thank you_ up to whatever deity is watching over them, because Kach is completely at a loss with how to help his friend and Mav couldn’t have shown up at a better time. When Binder only stares blankly at the pilot, Maverick asks the question again. And then Binder curls in on himself, leg drawn up to his chest and face pressed into his knee, and he really does start crying. It’s sudden, and Maverick looks about as lost as Kach feels when the medic starts shaking due to the silent sobs wracking his frame.

Kach decides he wants to take back the _thank you_ , because he knew Maverick did not deal with crying well. The man had a very strict sergeant when he first started serving, and because his sergeant did not allow things like crying, Maverick had never _had_ to deal with it.

However, it seemed that none of that mattered here, because as soon as Maverick was over his shock he wrapped his arm around Binder and drew him into his side. Kach didn’t know what to do—he dealt with crying about as well as Mav, although for entirely different reasons—but it seemed like the physical contact was helping Binder to calm down, so Kach reached out and grabbed the hand that was currently locked in a death grip around Binder’s shin.

They sat like that for a while, the three of them oblivious to the chaos below them of a starship that had just taken off, suspended in their own world. The metal he was sitting on was cold, a side effect of being in space, but Binder was warm beside him and for now that was enough.

When Binder had finally started to breath normally again, Maverick was the first to speak up. He asked the question that Kach himself had been wondering, and the quiet words asking “Who was it?” were such a deviation from Maverick’s usual boisterous tone that Kach snapped his head up to look at the pilot over Binder’s still hunched back. What he saw surprised him even further, because the look in Maverick’s eyes was so _sad_ , and Kach suddenly remembered that Maverick was older than most of the clones on their squad. Hell, he was older than most clones _period_ , and that also meant that he had probably lost more brothers than most of them, too. Kach barely has time to think about how he’s probably lucky, he hasn’t lost all that many people close to him, when Binder finally speaks up.

“Crux,” is all he says at first, and at a prompting look from Maverick he continues, stammering. “He, uh, he was one of my batchers.” Maverick pulls Binder closer at that same time Kach squeezes his hand, and neither of them say sorry because they’ve both lost enough friends to know the words don’t really mean anything. Neither of them are really expecting Binder to continue, but he does anyways.

“It was a droid, and his back was turned. I’m a medic, I should have been able to save him.” Binder shakes his head and gives a brief, humourless laugh. “It just isn't _fair_.” His voice cracks, and the pain he hears is almost more than Kach can handle.

“No, it really isn't.” Is all Maverick responds. They’re all silent for a moment more before Binder speaks again.

“He was all I had left. Everyone from my batch is gone now. I'm alone.” The medic starts to curl in on himself again after saying that, and Kach decides he's had enough.

“You’re not alone, though,” Kach says, and there's vehemence in his voice. When Binder looks confused, he continues, his voice softened. “You have us.” And he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” And Binder finally smiles. It’s small and still kind of watery, but it's a smile nonetheless.

“Besides, as long as you remember your brothers, they’re never really gone.” Kach had overheard someone say something like that once, in some backwater smuggler’s haven, and he liked the way it sounded.

Maverick snorts and stands up. “That was the cheesiest damn thing I’ve ever heard.” His voice is back at it’s normal volume and tone, and Kach wonders if it was the right thing to say. Binder is still smiling, though, so it must have been at least somewhat okay. Kach is pulled out of his thoughts when Mav suggests that they go somewhere else.

“Like where?” Binder asks.

“I’m pretty sure I heard Cannon say he could do more push-ups than Push,” Maverick says, and the usual gleam is back in his eyes.

“Doesn't the idiot know where Push got his name?” Kach says, incredulous.

“If he didn't then he's about to find out, now let’s _go_.” Kach knows when Mav is getting impatient, so he and Binder both drag themselves up beside him.

“Now this I’ve gotta see,” Binder says. His eyes are still red and his voice is kind of hoarse, but Kach figures that he’ll be fine, eventually, especially after seeing Cannon have his ass handed to him. That would brighten anyone’s day.

They walk through the ship’s hallways to the gym, Maverick talking nonstop about whatever the topic of the hour happens to be, and Kach never letting go of Binder’s hand. _Yeah,_ he thinks to himself, _We’ll be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that was A Thing that happened. I fully intend to write more about these kids and the rest of the Killjoys squad, and my goal in life is to make people feel things about characters for which they would otherwise feel nothing, so if I managed to do that maybe hmu in the comments section or smth. I'm also going to do a bit of shameless self-promotion for my blog, so you can find me on tumblr at ahsokaas, although that does tend to change pretty frequently. Thanks for reading! (okay that sounded rlly cheesy but its also way to late to care)
> 
> Chpater title was also taken from the alt text of a [Softer World comic](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1033)


	2. we're just getting started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kaminoans tend to over exaggerate things, and Flint think that maybe he could get used to this.

“Of course it had to kriffing _snow_ ,” Cannon grumbled, and Kane shot him a look that said _Not in front of the commanding officers_ . Cannon dutifully ignored him, and went right back to complaining. “The weather report in the mission briefing didn't say anything about snow. I _hate_ snow.”

“Aw, come on, Cannon,” Axel jumped into the conversation. “This isn't so bad. We could be on _Hoth_ .” Kane looked like he wanted to let out a large sigh at the teasing notes in their captain’s voice, but he didn't, because _professionalism._

“Please don't even _mention_ Hoth.” And Cannon looked actually pained at the notion of being on the ice planet as his mild shivering increased.

It had started snowing about an hour prior as they were walking through a forest to rendezvous with the other two teams their squadron had split into for a successful mission on one of the mid-rim planets. It took them by surprise, because as much as Cannon’s complaints were annoying, he did have a point: the mission briefing had said nothing about snow. Of course, that meant that they didn't have any snow gear. Sure, the bodysuits they wore under their armor provided some insulation, but not nearly as much as snow gear would have, and the Kaminoans taught them that they should never be caught without the proper gear in the snow, because that could prove deadly, especially on the harsher planets like Hoth.

Flint himself had never actually seen snow before. The need for more troopers and his rushed training meant that he hadn’t had the hands-on snow planet training the rest of his older brothers had gotten. _Honestly_ he thought to himself _this isn't as bad as the Kaminoans made it seem_. The snow here was soft and fluffy, not the pelting ice his training had warned him of, and the ground wasn't slippery in the slightest, especially on the main paths they were walking. He also wasn't experiencing the biting chill of strong winds, because there weren't any to speak of.

“What do you think, Flint?” Flint was startled out of his thoughts and looked up to see his three brothers looking at him expectantly.

“What do I think of what?” Flint asked, and immediately regretted it. His brothers laughed, and it was friendly laughter, but he endured enough teasing as it was _thank you very much_.

Axel sighed and repeated the question. “Cannon was wondering what you thought about the snow. He hates it, I don't mind, and we finally got Kane to admit he actually has _opinions_ , for once, so he doesn't like it.”

“We're split and we need a tiebreaker,” Cannon interrupted, getting impatient with the captain. “So, what do you think about the snow.”

“I like it,” Flint said, and Cannon looked mildly offended. “It's nice, and kinda warm.” This time Cannon looked as if Flint had personally insulted him.

“Have you lost your mind?” Cannon nearly shouted. “Snow is not _warm_! It's cold and terrible.”

Axel shot a pointed look at Cannon and said “I told you were overreacting to this. Not everyone thinks snow is the worst thing to ever happen.”

“Then everyone is _wrong_ ,” Cannon whined, and continued to mutter under his breath about how he was serving with a bunch of crazies as he trudged ahead of the rest of his teammates.

They kept walking like that for some distance more, Kane on Flint’s right side and Axel on his left, before Kane spoke up.

“What exactly did you mean when you said the snow was warm?” The group’s sniper sounded more than a little confused, and although Axel was staring at their surroundings on the lookout for danger, Flint could tell he was listening intently. Flint paused for a moment to gather his thoughts so he wouldn’t sound like a complete idiot, and then tried his best to explain.

“Well, in the training classes on Kamino, they always said snow could kill you because it’s cold and harsh and they said it hurts, but this isn’t anything like that. This snow is soft, and it feels like... Well, I’m not entirely sure, but something nice.” He held up one of his hands to catch the falling flakes, and they melted as soon as they hit his palm. Flint was so enamored by the white specks that he missed the look that Axel and Kane shared over his head.

“Are you saying,” Axel said, “that you’ve never seen snow before?”

Flint looked surprised as he considered the question. When he spoke it was slow and sounded like he was just stumbling upon something he should have realized some time ago. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Cannon, who had been maintaining a steady distance in front of them, stopped and whirled around with a loud “What?!” The statement could have sounded dangerous under different circumstances, but the tone of his voice made it clear that Cannon had a manic grin on his face that offset the low rumble of his words. Although, some of his brothers may argue that when that particular expression showed up on Cannon’s face it actually tended to make things _more_ dangerous for any people involved.

“Well, yeah,” Flint said, “They needed more troops on the field, so I kind of... _Skipped_ that part of training?” Kane look appalled—an expression that frequented his face—at the notion of troopers with incomplete training. In contrast, Cannon’s grin got impossibly wider.

“There’s hope for you yet, kid,” he says, and moves to lean his arm on Flint’s shoulder. Flint shakes him off as Cannon continues. “You’ve never seen real snow. So, I’ll talk to the general, convince her to make our next mission somewhere with actual snowstorms, and you can join the ranks of the sane people like Kane and me.”

Axel shook his head, and Flint could tell he was hiding a smile under his helmet. “Alright troopers,” he said, “let’s keep moving. We’ve got to get to the rendezvous before sundown.”

Cannon straightens up and responds with an over-the-top “SIR, YES SIR!” and Flint swears he actually hears Kane let out a small sigh (which Kane denies later, but it happened, okay?). They start making their way further down the forest path they’d been following, and make it to the rendezvous to find Binder having a fit because the general seems to attract trouble and got herself hurt _again_ , although no one from that team actually has anything worse than a few scrapes and bruises from slipping on some ice where the snow had hit worse.

Cannon stays true to his words, and over dinner ‘respectfully requests’ that their next mission be on an ice planet. Craft, who hates snow even more than Cannon, nearly flays the latter alive for the suggestion. The general just laughs and says _I’ll talk to the council and see what I can do_ with a knowing smirk that means she will be doing No Such Thing. Flint thinks he wouldn’t mind so much even if their next mission was on Hoth, because he reasons that it’s gotta be better than sweating your ass off on some of the desert planets they’re been to.

Flint has a dream that night, different from the usual nightmares, where he’s living another life. He’s not in the army and he’s living in a small village town, and he can see through the window that it’s snowing heavily outside. It provides a nice contrast for the warmth inside the house, soft yellow light spilling out the window. Flint wakes up the next morning with an overwhelming sense of contentment and love, although he can’t for the life of him remember what he dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in Canada and we've been having a very mild winter this year, so I got homesick for snow and this was the result.
> 
> Also, the Softer world people are probably gonna come after me if I don't stop using their [alt text](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=899) for my titles. (It's all just so good though, you should check out the comic if you haven't before.)


	3. the beating of hearts (like two drums in the grey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was going well until Craft tried to be a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title this time was not taken from a Softer World (surprise surprise!) but it still isn't original. It's a line from the Daughter song Run, which you could put on to set the mood for this chapter, particularly the acoustic version. 
> 
> Warning for panic attacks triggered by traumatic injury in this chapter, so if you're worried about that just don't read this, as it is the bulk of the content. Your health (mental or otherwise) comes first.

Everything was going well until Craft tried to be a hero. It was a standard operation; hit the ground, hit some battle droids, hit up a bar with the rest of your brothers. And everything _was_ going good, better than normal, actually, but there was a small village in the direction they were pushing the droids that the reports had said was uninhabited. Turns out the reports were wrong, because they’d almost cleared out the area when a little Zabrak girl ran out of one of the houses.

She was young, and obviously scared, and also right in the middle of a firefight. Craft didn’t really think before he acted, all he knows is that there was a blaster bolt heading straight for the girl and his legs pushed him to jump in front of her. The last thing he remembered was his shoulders hitting the ground and an awful burning sensation in his upper chest before he blacked out.

* * *

Craft came back into consciousness slowly, and all he knew was that he _hurt_. It took him a while to realize he’s in the med bay on the cruiser, and that Keeper was passed out in a chair beside his bed with his face pressed into the sheets. He always tends to fixate when he’s on morphine (and if he’s being honest, even when he’s not on the drug), and today is no different. He watches the steady rise and fall of Keeper’s back for what could have been minutes, but feels like hours until the other trooper wakes up.

Keeper raised his head and blinked slowly at first, before noticing that Craft was watching him. His expression brightened immediately. “You’re up!” He said, and that’s how Craft knew he was probably in bad shape, because Keeper looked both stressed and relieved. He thought that his brother worried too much, and so he tried to say that, but no words would come out. Craft’s brow furrowed, and he tried again. The second time he managed a terrible rasping sound, and he watched Keeper’s smile falter.

 _What’s wrong_ he tried to say, and he still only made that awful sound and something in his chest tightened at the way Keeper leaned forward and grabbed his hand.

“Craft, it,” he faltered and started again. “When you saved that girl, the blaster bolt hit you right in the neck. You’re lucky to be alive Craft, but Oliver says you’re probably not gonna be able to talk again.” The heartbreak in his voice was palpable, and Craft didn’t react for some time. When the information finally processed and Craft reached up to his neck and felt the thick layer of bandages that resided there, the pressure in his chest got worse and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

All at once his breath caught in his throat right behind the burning sensation showing up on his skin while the rest of his limbs felt like there was ice spreading through his veins. His vision was starting to go spotty when he felt Keeper lean in closer out of concern.

“Shit,” he said, quietly, and then at full volume Keeper called for a medic. “Ollie! _Oliver!_ I need some help over here!” A few seconds later Oliver appeared in his quickly narrowing field of vision, grabbing his shoulders and trying to look into Craft’s face.

“Dammit,” the medic said in a gruff voice that spoke of the end of a long shift. “He’s having a panic attack. I— Hey, Craft, I need you to look at me, okay?” Craft pulled his head up to look at the older clone, but it didn’t do much good because everything was out of focus and going dark and he still couldn’t _breathe_.

Oliver continued talking in a calm voice, something about breathing slowly, but Craft wasn’t listening much anymore. He didn’t understand how the medic could be so relaxed when his entire world felt like it was shifting sideways. His vision was almost entirely gone by the time he felt Keeper squeeze his hand slightly. Some of his vision returned when he heard his friend speaking in a soft voice.

“Craft, you’re gonna be okay, you’re fine, you’re safe. Just breathe, Craft.” Most of what Keeper was saying was nonsensical phrases, but just hearing the stream of words seemed to help. Craft focused on the feeling of Keeper’s hand in his, the gentle pressure on his palm, and slowly he started to breathe normally again.

When his vision came back in full, he saw that Oliver had backed away and Keeper had closed his eyes, still talking. As the icy feeling went away from his limbs, he felt the roughness of the sheets under his feet and it was almost too much but he was too tired to care. His arms felt weighted down and every small bit of movement took monumental effort. He looked down and saw damp blankets, and realized that he’d been crying the whole time. Everything still felt muted and distant and grey, except for the warm feeling of Keeper’s hand in his.

When he finally stopped crying, Oliver shifted closer again. “How are you feeling, Craft,” he asked. Craft opened his mouth to respond, before closing it and shaking his head instead. Oliver smiled and said, “Yeah, I figured. You’ll probably keep feeling like shit for a while. I’ve gotta go check on my other patients, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” Craft nodded, and Oliver patted his hand on the mattress once before getting up and walking along the row of beds.

They sat in silence for some time, before Keeper stood up. “Move over,” He said, and Craft was mildly startled so he shifted to the left to make room for Keeper to sit before he even thought about it. With Keeper pressed up against him, warm at his side, Craft was almost asleep when his brother spoke again. “You’re going to be okay, you know,” and Keeper looked so determined as he continued, “I’ll make this okay.”

 _You don’t need to_ was what he wanted to say. Instead he pressed closer against his brother’s side, head falling onto Keeper’s shoulder, and grasped his hand tighter as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a late update this time, because my week was epically shitty. And like, that doesn't really matter, but I want to try to stick to a schedule as a bit of a personal challenge. This whole fic is a challenge, actually. I want to work on my writing and my character development skills, and this is a fun way to do it, even if no one is reading this and I'm just screaming into the void about my sons that I care too much about.
> 
> Poor Craft though. This boy goes through so much (which is all my fault) but he deserves a break. All he wanted to do was save that little girl, which he did, in case you were wondering. But like Craft does continue to suffer from panic attacks after this, it's just kind of the start. And Keeper is so good, so protective. He just wants to keep his brothers safe, and at this point Craft is the last of his batch brothers so he's extra protective of that small child. They just care so much about each other it hurts my heart in the best way.


	4. REBEL ALLIANCE ARCHIVAL RECORDS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DATE: 39:08:11  
> SERIAL NUMBER: 8826642-M  
> ITEM: Interview with Republic Commandos.  
> DESCRIPTION: Hard copy holo disk with accompanying text.  
> FILED BY: Sergeant Bets Vuan, Alliance Intelligence  
> The following is both a holo disk recording of an interview with two clone troopers from the Galactic Army of the Republic and the relating transcript as written by Tseem Krec. The disk was recovered during an archaeological expedition to Coruscant. We estimate the date of origin was sometime towards the end of the first year of the Clone Wars; around 21 BBY. The recording has been damaged over the years and some parts are missing. It has been uploaded for archival purposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is from an ask I got last August (oops) referecing [this post](http://rosewilson.tumblr.com/post/148844307419/interview-my-oc-about-questions-that-has-no-easy), asking for all the numbers with Craft and Keeper
> 
> also, since this is nearly entirely dialogue and despite all my research I could not find an accurate way to write dialogue that is signed (Craft can’t speak, for new readers) all his dialogue is put in square brackets. If anyone can tell me a better way to do this it would be greatly appreciated.

Interviewer: Thank you for sitting down with me today. Your names are Craft and Keeper, correct?  
Keeper: Oh, it’s no problem. And yeah, that’s right.  
Craft: * _signs something indistinct_ *  
K: Yeah, I’m not translating that.  
I: Oh, should I—  
K: No, trust me, you don’t want to know what he just said.  
I: Okay then. So, should we get started? I have several questions prepared.  
K: Sure.  
C: [Hit us.]

I: Which should be saved – a bus full of innocent lives or a loved one?  
C: [Jumping right into it, I see.]  
K: I’d say a bus full of innocents. I love all my loved ones, don’t get me wrong...  
_Keeper trails off and Craft nudges him to gain his attention._  
C: [But all our loved ones are other clones, and we’re all prepared to lay down our lives for others.]  
K: Yeah, exactly.

I: You meet a man who has killed someone and done time for it before. Does this factor into how you treat him? Will he ever truly escape that sin? ****  
K: I think it depends on why he killed the person. We’ve killed people, does that change how you treat us?  
C: [I don’t think it would really affect how I treated him unless I knew why he killed the person. Like, if he killed his kids that’s a lot different than self-defence.]  
K: Yeah I agree. As for escaping the sin, I say no, he won’t. Taking a life is something that sticks with you. You can’t ever leave it behind.

I: If you could jump back through time to save a loved one’s life, would you? Despite what it might to do the timeline? To everyone else? Do you believe it is their fate to die regardless?  
K: I don’t think so. There’s people I’d like to bring back, and see again, but if it messed with everyone else’s lives I don’t think I’d do it.  
C: [We’ve all seen the holo films, we know how it ends. But yeah, everyone has their time to die. As much as we may want to bring them back we shouldn’t play around with that.]

I: You have a secret you swore not to reveal. But this secret is the only thing that would prove your innocence in a separate matter. Is it worth risking your own well-being for the secret? Or would you betray the trust given to you?  
K: No.  
C: [I’m pretty good at getting out of tight situations. I’m sure I could find a way out that didn’t involve giving secret away.]  
K: Although if the secret was really mundane and the situation was bad enough I might.  
C: _*while laughing silently*_ [Yeah, like if I were framed for blowing up a planet and it would prove my innocence, I would definitely tell the galaxy about the time Cannon got drunk and tried to ride a mechanical bantha. He fell off in like two seconds.]  
K: Oh my gods. He’s gonna kill you when he sees this.  
C: [Worth it.]

I: Is it better to hurt others before they hurt you or let yourself be walked all over and hurt by others?  
C: [I think I’d let myself be hurt first.]  
K: I’d have to agree.

I: If you tell the truth, an evil person gets to walk away free. If you lie, you may be able to send them away like they deserve. Is honesty worth more than justice?  
C: [If it puts them away and prevents them from hurting anyone else, then I have no problem lying.]  
K: As long as no one else is hurt in the process, I agree with Craft.

I: You have the key to immortality in your hands. But not for free. If you want it, as a price, your worst enemy also gains immortality. Is it worth it?  
K: I wouldn’t really say I have a worst enemy, so I guess I’d take it since no one else really gets it. Assuming I did have one though I wouldn’t do it.  
C: [We made our peace with dying a long time ago.]

I: If you could gain as much money as you want for losing a sense, would you do it?  
C: [Does talking count as a sense? Because I already lost that, so where’s my money?]  
_Keeper turns to look directly into the camera._ _  
_ K: I’d say no, because you need all your senses to keep you alive in the field.

I: Can people be held accountable for things people close or related to them did or are they innocent?  
C: No, I don’t think so  
K: Yeah. I mean every person is an individual, why should you get blamed for something someone else did?

I: If a lot of people, possibly innocent people, have to die in order to make a real change, is it worth it? Can you live with their deaths even if it helps people in the present?  
C: [That’s what we’re doing though, isn’t it? So many of us are out dying on the front lines to make a change, so I’d say it is worth it. It has to be, or all the lives lost would be for nothing.]  
K: Good brothers have died, it has to be worth something.

I: Imagine there is a beast that craves attention. If you ignore it, despite being deadly, it will leave you alone. Could you live like that? Even if it possibly attacked others? Would you try and challenge something that unknown?  
K: I think I’d give the beast attention. That’s not much of a price to pay to protect innocent lives.  
_Craft nods, seemingly in agreement._

I: If someone else stole something and you stole it back is that a good deed, a bad deed or one of equal worth? Are you better than the original thief?  
C: [It depends if I’m stealing it for myself or if I’m getting it back for the original owner. If I take it for personal gain I’m no better than the thief, but if I’m giving it back to the person who it belonged to in the first place that would be a good deed.]  
K: Exactly.

I: Could you sacrifice yourself for the good of everyone else? **  
** K: Craft’s already tried that once, don’t give him any more ideas. But yeah, I think most of use in the GAR would do it. It’s what we’re bred for, right?

I: What of love? Say you discover your lifelong crush on another has finally been reciprocated… but they are currently dating a family member or a dear friend the crush feels responsible to honour. Do you force the break up? Date on the side? Bottle it up forever?  
K: I think I speak for both of us when I say I’d try and bottle it up.  
_Craft nods and signs something indistinct._  
K: Yeah, exactly. If the hypothetical crush felt obligated to stay with the other person I’m not going to make them break that obligation. It’s better to just let it go.

I: Is lying to others to gain their approval more important than being genuine and hated?  
C: [No. There’s no sense in pretending to be someone you’re not.]  
K: Just be yourself and let people make their own judgements. Not everyone will like you, it’s something you need to accept.

I: Have you ever contemplated killing someone? Who and why? Would you ever act on it? Are you frightened you might?  
C: [I think Keeper mentioned earlier that we have killed people. It’s a side effect of war; people die.]  
K: If you’re asking about outright murder though, I don’t think either of us would go that far. The soldiers we’ve killed signed up for the war, they knew the risks.

I: Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else, either physically or mentally? To whom and why? Did it scare you?  
K: Never joy, no. There is a certain feeling when you’re in a fight though. It’s hard to explain.  
C: [It’s the adrenaline rush. It makes it feel like joy at the time, but it’s all the chemicals running through your body. Messes with your perceptions.]

I: Have you ever done something morally wrong? If it’s morally wrong do you regret it?  
K: I don’t think anything outright, no.  
C: [There are some things that probably border on morally wrong, though. It comes with the job.  
K: It depen—

_Part of the recording is missing at this point. The image and audio cuts straight from the last line to the following._

—hard one. I’d have to say it depends on the person. Like if they’ve done something repeatedly and plan to continue doing it after people have shown them why it’s wrong then maybe they shouldn’t be forgiven. If they want to repent though, we should allow them that.  
C: [Yeah, that makes sense.]

I: Are there people in this world you simply think the world would be better without? If you could erase them out of existence without physically murdering them, would you?  
C: [I mean my life would be easier if certain people were gone. Dooko, for one.]  
K: It’s like that timeline question from earlier though. If we erase them, does someone worse come and take their place? Is it worth the risk?

I: How do you feel about having an intimate relationship with someone you don’t love? What if they love you in return? Does that make you feel guilty?  
C: [By ‘intimate’ do you mean sexual? Because I think I’d be okay with that. Like just having sex with someone I don’t love isn’t that big a deal. Even emotional intimacy wouldn’t be that bad, I think. If they loved me and I didn’t love them though I think I would feel a bit guilty, like I’m leading them on or something.]  
K: I’d have to disagree. I don’t think I want to be intimate with someone if I don’t love them. And you didn’t say it has to be romantic love. Like, I love Craft, he’s my brother and my best friend, and we tell each other everything, basically inhabit each other’s heads from time to time. Wouldn’t that be intimate?

I: Could you ever become your own hero? Is that a role you can fulfil or is it something you look to others for?  
K: I think I could be my own hero, but I do look to other people as well.  
C: [Yeah. We never had many people to look up to, growing up. Although I do look to my brothers for inspiration.]  
K: Exactly. I mean, it’s nice to look to others for a role model, but sometimes you don’t have that luxury. You have to save yourself.

I: How do you feel about tears? Are they cowardly and weak? Do you cry? Would you consider that shameful?  
K: Tears are a perfectly fine reaction to anything.  
C: [I think we’ve all cried at some point, for some reason or another. I’ve seen people cry after losing brothers, and after having them come back safe.]

I: What is more important to you? An idea of yours being used and appreciated or the credit for that idea beings yours and yours alone?  
K: I’d say having it be used. It should be shared, and I don’t care much about everyone knowing who I am.  
C: [It is nice to have that recognition, but I think letting the knowledge get shared is more important.

I: Is your personal happiness more important than anything else in the world? Than fame? Than the happiness of others?  
C: [I’d say no, it’s not more important. Like, I’d rather be happy than be famous, but I do put other people before myself.]  
K: I think that’s something most brothers would do. Put others before themselves, that is.  
C: [Yeah. There’s a few who don’t, but for the most part it’s a trait all of us share.]

I: How far would you go to achieve a dream or ideal? Does it matter who suffers? Does it matter if you suffer?  
C: [I don’t think I’d go too far. I mean I’d do whatever I was able to to achieve that dream, but there’s a point where you have to realize you’re going too far, when you start hurting other people or yourself.]  
K: Well said.

_The recording once again cuts out here._

—pected and praised by your elders or being looked up to and championed by those younger or of the same age?  
C: [Can I say both?]  
K: Elders.

I: If you could choose to remove certain feelings such as anger, confusion, sadness, would you remove them?  
Both: No.  
C: [Your emotions are what drive you and make you human. I’d never get rid of that.]  
K: I couldn’t have put it better.

I: If you could wipe certain memories from your head, would you? Why would you? What memories?  
K: No  
C: [I mean, it’s the same as the last one. Our memories are what make us who we are.]

I: What path appeals to you more? An exciting dream that leaves you possibly penniless and alone or a drab existence where you have steady success.  
C: [Although I wouldn’t call war a dream, it is pretty exciting, so that first one is pretty much what we’ve been living.]  
K: As much as I sometimes wonder what a normal life would be like, I do like the life we’re living. It would be better if I could guarantee my brothers’ safety, though.  
C: [I suppose a “drab existence with steady success” could apply to war.]  
K: Oh you’re right. I wouldn’t mind a boring war if it meant our brothers survived and we won most of our battles. That would be alright too.  
C: [If you’re surrounded by good people, it wouldn’t be too boring though, would it?]  
K: Well does the question apply to the people around you too? Are they made boring by this hypothetical existence?  
I: We’ve got one more question and we’re running out of time boys, let’s move on.  
K: Of course, sorry.  
C: [We’re coming back to this later, though.]

I: Is every person in this world wholly unique or can they be categorized? Can they be grouped and mentally dissected? Are you just another sheep in another flock or are you the sole unique soul?  
Both: Unique.  
K: No que—

_The holo recording cuts out at this point. There is no more footage._

 


	5. true dreams (what if the sky falls again?)

Binder was going to kill her. He was going to kill his general if all the things she wasn’t telling him about didn’t kill her first. The damn Jedi had decided it was a good idea to not inform her primary physician about any of her issues which was increasing his stress levels and _he was going to kill her._ And judging by the slightly murderous look his brother is sporting, he’s pretty sure Maze would be willing to help him bury the body.

“So you’re telling me,” he started, arms crossed and glaring, “that you never thought it would be a good idea to tell anyone about this?”

Kossan was sitting on one of the cots in the med bay, and words came muffled through where she had her head buried in her hands. “Well, it was never a problem until now.” She spoke with a thick accent that she didn’t normally have.

“But you knew about it before, which means it was a problem,” Maze countered. The General lifted her head slightly to glare at Maze.

“I had it under control,” she said, before dropping her head back into her hands with a small groan.

“I’m at least giving you something for the pain.” Binder was already prepping a hypo when Kossan started to protest again.

“I just lost my balance, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine.” Binder could hear the frustration rising in her voice.

“You can barely look at the light, you’re not fine.” Maze was starting to share in the General’s frustration, his voice rising in volume slightly and causing the General to flinch away from the sound. Binder reached out from what he was doing to put his hand firmly on Maze’s shoulder, prompting the younger clone to look at him.

He knew that Maze only sounded angry because he was worried for Kossan. It scared them all, seeing her collapse in the hallway. Binder’s first thought had been that he’d missed internal bleeding, and he still wasn’t entirely ready to rule it out without a full body scan even if Kossan seemed to be doing better. He maintained a few more seconds of eye contact with his commander before speaking, searching his eyes to try and find out what he was thinking, but Binder also knew that Maze tended to throw up walls when he was scared.

“Go help Cannon make sure the ordnance is secure,” he said. Maze looked as if he was about to object, but Binder just gave him another deep look before Maze let out a huff and turned on his heel. The distraction would be good for him.

“Thank you.” The General’s voice came out quiet as Binder turned back to her, seeing that her hands had shifted from her face to the back of her montrals, probably trying to block out the sound of Maze’s rising voice. Binder reached to the wall behind him, dimming the lights and forcibly calming himself down before picking up the hypo again.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m still not done with you. Now show me your neck.” Binder waited patiently before Kossan reluctantly moved her arm and pulled her lek away to give him access to the side of her neck. “You’re still getting a full body scan so I can make sure there’s no lingering problems.”

Once he moved the hypo away and went to dispose of it, she turned her head to look at him. “I told you, I’m _fine_ ,” she said. “It’s just a migraine. They happen sometimes.”

“And what was this one caused by?” Binder crossed his arms and stared down his general. She held his gaze until she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the floor once more from what Binder assumed was overexposure to the light, even as dim as they were. “You can’t do this again, General,” he said. “Not sleeping for three days and then over-exerting yourself on the battlefield, it’s not healthy. And you’re putting yourself and the rest of this squad in danger.” When she didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “You _can’t_ keep doing this.”

When he still wasn’t getting a response, he moved to ready the scanner and it was then, several minutes later, that Kossan spoke again.

“I know that.”

“Then why do you insist on doing it?” Binder asked.

“It’s worse if I don’t.”

“The migraines are worse if you don’t push yourself well beyond your limits?”

“No, it’s—” The General cut herself off and let out a harsh sigh as Binder moved forward to use the scanner. “When I lost my lek, I lost part of the ability to echolocate on that side. It fucks with my balance, and so I use the Force to compensate for it.”

“And the strain of constantly using the Force...”

“Causes the migraines, yeah.” Kossan seemed despondent, although Binder couldn’t figure out why. Pulling away from his patient, Binder asked another question.

“So why does using the Force cause such a strain? I thought most Jedi used it constantly.”

“Well they do yeah, but on a background level. It’s like how the radar systems is the ship are running constantly, even if no one is looking at them. Most Jedi only actually call upon the Force when they need it directly.”

“But you’re calling on it constantly, then. Is that why you collapsed?”

The General shook her head softly. “That was more from the missing lek,” she said. “After I exerted myself too much during that last fight, I didn’t really have the energy to use the Force as much as I needed.”

“So exhaustion was the root cause of this?” Kossan hummed softly in agreement, and Binder gestured with the datapad the scanner had sent the results to. “Then everything checks out here. I’m officially prescribing you bedrest. Is there anything else I should know about?” He watched Kossan shake her head and heard her let out a breath of air. Satisfied, he then went about tidying up the scatterings of miscellaneous items throughout the med bay. It was sometime later when he heard footsteps and looked up to see Maze entering the room. The Commander was looking at him expectantly.

“She’s fine,” Binder said. “Bedrest and fluids and we’ll be good.” Maze nodded and walked to where Kossan was sitting and staring at the floor. He put his hand on her shoulder—if anyone else on the squad had tried that it probably wouldn’t have ended well. Kossan was still jumpy around anyone who wasn’t Maze—and when she made eye contact with him they shared a few moments of silent communication. Maze then shifted to move his shoulder under Kossan’s arm and helped her up. Binder watched them leave, Kossan leaning heavily on her commander as they headed to the cabins while muttering quietly to each other.

Binder still had yet to figure out their relationship; Kossan came off as abrasive to most people, not allowing them to get close, and Maze seemed to harbour a mild dislike of every other Jedi he encountered, yet they seemed to be the exception for each other. He still remembered when they first met and would get into frequent arguments, but in the last few months something seemed to click and they now got along better than any two people Binder had ever seen. He wasn’t complaining about the shift, though. It made things easier on a team when the two commanding officers weren’t constantly at odds with each other. He decided to put it off as a mystery for another time, though, and turned to the paperwork he still needed to file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly if someone wants to talk with me about togruta anatomy theyd be my new best friend, because I have A Lot to say about the topic haha. this was part of a larger thing but I realized it didn't really fit, but I also didn't want to delete it, so i figured I'd put it here. ftr I also didn't proof-read this. oops?


End file.
